


Someone to Lean On

by Gemini_Baby



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Affection, And lots of forehead kisses, Brother Feels, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Damian Wayne is a good brother, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Dick Grayson-centric, Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Gen, Sibling Bonding, YeetDC2020, and affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25781197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemini_Baby/pseuds/Gemini_Baby
Summary: Usually, Dick is a son and a brother. Someone who is always there, whenever he is needed, or wanted- and a shoulder to lean on.But sometimes, he is not there for others. But even then, he is reminded that he is also a son and a brother. Someone who has others to lean on.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Comments: 8
Kudos: 124





	Someone to Lean On

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Brigit, CKBookish and Syngaly for helping with the fic ❤
> 
> A note for the fic: A character in the fic is exhausted and stressed and due to the stress thinks that they are not loved and are only a burden or no one cares. This is of course because of the stress and insecurity. None of the other characters agrees with the character. They love him very much. I tried showing the thought process... in which he feels a lot of guilt and self-blames himself in the fic. None of it means that he is unloved or incapable of things.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy

Dick missed his family and he missed spending time with Damian. The past few weeks had been long, and all his energy was drained. He had no idea when he would get any rest. The next time he got a break, he was just going to faceplant and sleep for at least a decade or two.

Ladyluck was not in his favour these days. He needed to go to Gotham City for the weekend, for some work-related business.

He knocked at the door of the manor, feeling guilty that he was visiting the manor not because he was hoping to see them and see the family that weekend, but rather because he merely needed a place to crash without getting tangled in hotel bookings.

Bruce opened the door. Dick threw his arms around his dad, hugging him. Bruce in return, wrapped Dick in a hug, kissed his forehead and caressed his cheek. 

When Dick pulled a bit back, Bruce looked at him, his eyes shining. “I missed you, son.”

“I missed you too, and everyone else.”

But then Dick lowered his head. “I am not here this weekend to take Damian to the arcade, or out for ice cream.”

He risked glancing towards Bruce. Bruce just gave a short nod.

“I…uh, I wanted to visit earlier, but I’m not doing that today. I’m here for work, and have to start working right away.”

“Come in.”

“I—”

Dick entered the manor and they walked into the living room. Dick flopped down on the couch Bruce had pointed towards, putting his bag on the floor at his feet. Alfred came in with a glass of water. It was cold and Dick bitterly thought, _not colder than the feeling washing over him currently._

He gulped the contents down in one go, only to find himself at the receiving end of Alfred’s patented look of disappointment. Dick would have loved not to be, but the past couple of weeks, maybe the whole month, had been filled with disappointed looks, scorns, and lectures from his employers, co-workers, and now Alfred.

He wondered how many minutes or hours it would take for Bruce or Damian or anyone else in the manor to regard him with that stare too.

Dick was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed Alfred leaving. A firm hand on his shoulder and a presence beside him on the couch pulled him out of spiralling even further into his thoughts.

“Dick.”

 _A shaky breath and a nod._ “Yeah.”

Dick was sure he hadn’t convinced Bruce in the slightest, about him being alright.

“Hungry?”

“Not right now.”

“Snacks?”

_A slight shake of his head._

Leaning down, he opened the zipper on his bag and pulled out his laptop.

He pulled it open and was about to turn the computer on, but Bruce’s hand on his shoulder gave a soft squeeze.

“Get some sleep.”

“I don’t have much time. Maybe only a couple of hours. I think—I really should really just get started right away.” He expected a lecture about how incapable he was of taking care of himself, or for not sleeping properly, but when he turned his head in Bruce’s direction, all he saw was concern and love written over his face.

“I...I think I’m gonna get set up over there,” he said while pointing to a room.

He stood up, intending to go and prepare the room, to make it suitable and then return to take his computer and the files there so he could convert the parlour into a mock office, but he had only taken a couple of steps before Bruce’s voice stopped him.

“At least take a nap.”

The idea of a nap sounded so good in his head and to his ears, but he knew he didn’t have time for that. He had to go and set up his computer and start working. Not to mention, he hadn’t even said hello to everyone yet. Bruce had told him that Tim wasn’t going to be at the manor this weekend, and Cassandra was busy in Europe for some mission-slash-extra curricular competition thing, and Jason wouldn’t be coming in until that night.

Bruce frowned. “Dick, chum, you okay?” Dick looked exhausted, and dangerously close to falling asleep standing up. He swayed, and Bruce lunged to catch him, supporting his shoulder using his arm and saving Dick from falling and letting Dick’s forehead and the tiled floor have a duel.

“I am alright, Dad.” 

Bruce only raised an eyebrow. 

_How does one raise an eyebrow?_ Dick wondered distantly. _This is so surreal._

“Go and rest some,” Bruce spoke softly.

Dick just shook his head. He still had to see Damian. Dick had not informed anyone of his impromptu visit, so Damian probably didn’t even know he was there. Otherwise, Dick would have been greeted with a scene of Damian running downstairs and launching himself into Dick’s arms. He must not have known about Dick’s visit yet, or he would have been here downstairs. Right. _Right? Unless he’s avoiding me? Guess he will just have to find out._

“Dick, come on. Just a little teeny tiny nap.”

“Teeny tiny sounds funny when you say it,” Dick said, chuckling. A little nap sounded good. Like a dream. “Alright,” Dick agreed. He started moving towards the stairs, but he’d only taken a step before he almost fell again by dozing off.

Dick let Bruce put an arm around his shoulder and lead him towards the stairs.

Once they were on the stairs, he asked his dad what had been bugging him.“You know what I am here for. You don’t mind?”

Bruce nodded. “I know.”

“But—”

“It’s okay, Dick. You can come here anytime you want.”

“Even if I am not really here for anything family related?”

“Even then.”

They ascended more stairs with Bruce supporting Dick. Dick didn’t trust himself not to just fall asleep on the stairs, then and there.

“This is your home, and you are and will always be welcome home, son.”

“Even if I’m only crashing here because I…was too lazy to book a hotel room?”

He had intended to book a hotel room. But he just missed manor, and his work had shown him zero support in finding a hotel. He was already planning to quit his job as soon as he found a more stable one. He loved what he did, sure. It was the people he worked for who made him sad, angry, and exhausted. Not to mention, he was being underpaid and forced to overwork. 

He was again spiralling in thoughts.

Bruce gave him a look like he really didn’t believe Dick’s story about just being lazy. Then he looked ahead and continued to walk both of them upstairs. Their rooms were up on the third floor. _Ugghh._ Normally, Dick can run up and down stairs just fine, but it wasn’t that easy on that day. They had only reached the first floor by then.

Bruce stopped on the landing. He also might have become tired. _It’s Dick’s fault. It’s his—_

His thoughts got cut off by Bruce pulling Dick towards him and planting a kiss on his forehead. Bruce brushed aside some of the hair falling in Dick’s eyes, and Dick could see his dad smiling softly at him.

“Still home. Your home. You not coming here for social calls or to take the kids out for ice cream doesn’t change the fact that this is your home.”

“My home,” he repeated dully, like he was trying to accept it. Deep down, he knew that Bruce was right, that this was also his home, but sometimes…sometimes his doubts got in the way though.

They continued climbing up the stairs.

“Everyone’s glad that you are here today.”

“Not everyone,” slipped from his mouth even before he knew.

“Hmmm.”

“What does _hmmm_ mean?”

“ _Hmmm_ means _hmmm_.”

_“Dad.”_

He didn’t imagine the smile on his father’s face.

“Damian was not informed of your visit. He might be sleeping, or busy drawing while blasting k-pop in his headphones.” At the mention of k-pop, Bruce’s face had a horrified look. He couldn’t believe his son’s taste in music.

Dick was grateful that he was not the one on the receiving end of Bruce’s horrified look at the music taste, this time.

“Maybe he just doesn’t want to see me…and honestly, valid,” Dick mumbled under his breath.

“Dick.”

“Yeah?”

“He was _begging_ yesterday for me to take him to Blüdhaven to see you.”

“What?”

“He really wanted to spend the weekend with you. But you had mentioned earlier this week, on the phone call, that you were busy this week and that you might not even be in your apartment, so I didn’t take him to your apartment.”

_Oh._

“Is he angry?”

“Dick.”

“It's understandable if he is.”

“Son, he didn’t know that you were busy. I told him.”

“Oh.”

“Mmm. I told him.”

Dick stopped walking, or climbing or letting himself be dragged or whatever this was, and just stared at Bruce.

“He’s not angry,” Bruce repeated. “He’s _worried_ about you. He wanted you to catch up on some rest.”

“Really?” 

“Yes.”

 _Huh._ His son brother had grown up when he was busy in Blüdhaven.

The smile on Dick’s face was either of a proud father or of a touched brother. _Maybe both._

At last, the third floor came. Dick couldn’t believe that he’d somehow managed to catch a cab and walk all the way to the manor. He had initially planned to set up his computer as soon as he was settled on a couch. _Taking a nap at the manor had not been in his plans._

“You can work _after_ you have at least taken a nap.”

_Shoot. Had he said that out loud?_

He heard a chuckle. “Yes, you said that aloud, son”

_Still. Sleep. Nope. Boring. Work. Right away._

“Dick, sleep is important. At least, nap.”

Dick made a sound of protest at the mention of sleep. _Still, a nap sounded good._

He again heard a laugh.

_Why is Dad laughing?_

“Can’t Dad laugh?”

_Mmmm...unfair._

“Fair.”

They were about to turn towards the left corridor where his and Bruce’s rooms were. Dick tugged on Bruce’s sleeve and pointed towards the right corridor, where Damian's room was, making a sound. _Did he just whine?_

“Alright.”

They turned to the left corridor.

They stopped in front of a wooden door, and knocked. And knocked. And knocked. No one was coming to open the locked door.

 _Okay. Damian is either really asleep or…_ He shuddered. _Blasting k-pop._

Bruce knocked very hard on the door and…the door just gave way. Turned out that the door was not really locked. _Facepalm._

“Did you just say ‘facepalm’?”

 _Did h_ e _?_

Dick, though he didn't feel good entering the room uninvited, stepped inside.

Damian was sitting on his bed, legs crossed, leaning on the headboard towards the left side of the room. His eyes were closed. One would think he might be asleep…if they didn’t notice the headphones.

Damian had not noticed them. At first, Dick thought maybe he should clear his throat or something, but then he realized that Damian usually noticed people around, even eyes closed, from slightest of movements. He decided to have some fun with his little brother instead. _But he would need some help from Dad for that._

There was a resigned Dad™ sigh beside him and an “Alright.”

Dick went to the bed and gently sat on the edge. He poked his brother’s stomach suddenly, and braced himself for the attack he thought he’d surely receive in response. 

Damian’s eyes opened in a flash, but he didn’t attack. Instead, he lit up.

An excited shout of “RICHARD” was all the warning Dick got before his arms were full of his baby bro. Damian’s arms wrapped around his neck, and Dick tucked his brother’s head under his chin.

“Hi, kiddo. Missed you,” Dick said into Damian’s hair. He kissed his forehead, and the arms around him got tighter.

“Missed you too, _Bhai Jaan_ ,” Damian said before pecking Dick on the cheek.

 _Bhai Jaan_ was Dick’s favourite name or title for him from Damian. He loved it.

“Love you, kiddo.”

“I love you too.”

Dick had forgotten about Bruce until he heard, “We can hear the music from your headphones, Damian,” from behind him. _Oh right._

Damian just stared at Bruce. And a moment later, he turned off the music. He took the headphones off and let them hang around his neck. “Good afternoon, Father. I thought you were asleep.” Dick heard the “I didn’t notice you were here too” which was left unsaid, anyway.

Dick realized that Bruce might have _been_ asleep, before Dick came.

“I thought _you_ were asleep”, Bruce said to Damian.

 _Everyone in this house was thinking the other person was asleep_.

He heard sounds of chuckling by two different people. _Was he saying things out loud again?_

There was a suspicious silence in response, which confirmed Dick’s suspicions.

Dick let go of Damian, and Damian went where he was sitting before on the bed, leaning against the board with his legs crossed. He stared at both of them.

Bruce stepped a bit forward and stood behind where Dick was sitting and ruffled Dick’s hair. “Want to stay here, or go to your room for a nap?”

“I don’t know.”

“You can stay here and nap?”, Damian asked him.

“Is that okay?”

Damian patted the space beside him, on the right side of the bed.

Bruce leaned down and kissed Dick’s forehead and ruffled Damian’s hair.

“Take care of each other, you too.”

“We will,” They replied in unison.

Bruce closed the door behind him as he left, and Dick laid down onthe bed. Damian adjusted the pillow under Dick’s head, and Dick fell asleep within moments of closing his eyes.

He’d hardly dozed off for like five minutes before he was startled awake, losing any hint of sleep. The dreams—they weren’t really nightmares, but they left a bad taste in his mouth and made sleep seem like a faraway concept.

He blinked rapidly. He hadn’t even realized tears were sliding down his cheeks until a hand slowly wiped them away.

He didn’t know when he had started crying but he just heard a sobbing sound, coming from...himself.

Damian’s hand wiped away the tears and tried to soothe him. “Richard, it’s okay.”

Dick shook his head. 

“Sshh…I got you.”

_Dick just wanted to sleep. Not taste ash in his mouth or cry in front of his youngest brother._

He felt his head being moved.

“It’s okay. I got you.”

He did _not_ want to cry.

“It’s okay. Let your tears fall.”

He just wanted to _sleep_.

“You will get some sleep.”

Damian moved Dick’s body so that his head was in Damian’s lap. He brushed Dick’s hair out of his eyes and carded his hand through his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

It helped with the headache. Dick closed his eyes and just stared into the darkness behind his eyelids. Damian never stopped carding through his hair.

Dick heard a soft humming sound. He recognized it. That was the hum of lullaby that Damian’s mother used to sing to him. He knew it because both of them had the tradition of humming the tune of their own mother’s favourite lullaby whenever the other had a nightmare or had trouble sleeping.

It helped him relax. Dick kept his eyes closed and Damian kept running his fingers through his hair and humming. 

After a moment, Dick opened his eyes and gave a hum to say that he felt better now, and that Damian didn’t have to sing anymore. (He just didn’t want to inconvenience his youngest brother more—more than he already did, anyway.)

Damian gave him a look, which asked, _“Are you sure you don’t want me to hum anymore?”_

Dick blinked once in response, _“Yes”_.

Damian didn’t look convinced, but he respected Dick’s wishes.

Dick just closed his eyes and lay there for a while. He didn’t fall asleep, but this was better than nothing.

After about fifteen minutes, he got tired of just lying there with his eyes closed tightly. Whether it had been to fall asleep or just to stop more tears from escaping, he was not sure.

Dick risked opening his eyes a little, and saw Damian was still running his fingers through Dick’s hair with his right hand, and was holding his phone with his other hand. He looked like he was reading something on it.

Dick tilted his head a bit upwards. “Dami?” he whispered softly. He didn’t even know why he did that, or if Damian even heard him. But Damian looked away from his phone, and met his eyes with a soft expression. 

He leaned down and kissed Dick’s forehead. “Couldn’t sleep?” Damian asked the question in such a low volume that for a moment, Dick thought that he’d just dreamed it. 

_Dick shook his head slightly._

His brother’s hand wiped away the little tears from the corner of Dick’s eyes.“What were you doing?”

“I was reading a short story.”

_Oh._

Damian leaned towards the end of his bed, momentarily confusing Dick. He pulled the blankets from where they were on the foot of the bed and covered Dick with them. Adjusting Dick inside the blankets and positioning his head on Dami’s leg better, it looked like he had made Dick covered by a shell.

“Dami, you are making me a cocoon.”

“Is it uncomfortable?”

No. It was actually comfortable. The blankets were very soft, actually. And the one that made immediate contact with Dick’s skin was fluffy and comforting. The leg and the knee under Dick’s head were comforting. The hand running through his hair was comforting.

But Dick didn’t know how to voice it, at that time. Didn’t trust his voice. Didn’t trust his eyes to not be wet if he kept them open any longer.

“It’s…it’s not uncomfortable. The blankets feel really nice, actually.”

Damian understood him anyway.

He leaned down to kiss Dick’s forehead again. In return, Dick caressed Damian’s cheek.

“Richard.”

“Yes?”

“Get comfy.”

Usually, Dick was the one who said these things. But, he decided, he didn’t mind being taken care of.

Dick was already in his pjs. He’d been wearing them in the cab on the way to the manor. The taxi driver had given him an odd look at the choice of his attire as compared to his destination, but Dick didn’t care. He didn’t have the energy to suit up. He just threw his work clothes in his bag and left for Gotham. 

He knew he had to go out for work-related things in the evening. He had to rest right now. Otherwise, he wouldn’t get the chance to rest later.

Dick turned onto his right side and adjusted the blankets around him.

“Richard”

“Mm?”

“Do you have to go anywhere Sunday night, for work? Or you will be here?”

“I’ll be back late at night on Sunday. Maybe it will technically be Monday by then. Then I gotta leave for Blüdhaven that morning. Why though?”

“Would you mind if I oil your hair on Sunday-technically-Monday night?”

Damian oiling his hair…. That sounded good.

“Will you do _kanghi_ too?”

Damian’s voice was amused. “If you want, yes.”

“I’d like that. It sounds nice.”

He loved when Damian oiled his hair and did _kanghi._ It was always soothing, and helped with his headaches. Not to mention, oils and that type of combing did wonders for the health of his hair.

“Okay.”

“Richard, close your eyes.”

He closed his eyes, very tightly, afraid that there would be tears again and—

A thumb rubbed at his temple. “Relax your eyelids. Don’t close your eyes so tightly.” He removed his thumb and kissed Dick’s temple.

Dick let his face relax, making sure his eyes weren’t closed as tightly as before.

“Do you want me to read to you?” asked Damian softly, once again brushing aside a lock of Dick’s hair.

_Dick would love to hear a story. But he is not sure if he, right now, wants to hear the kind of story Damian usually likes—the kind filled with violence and action. Or any of the genres Damian likes._

Dick heard the light sound of Damian’s laugh. “This is a funny short story. And I don’t like the genres you think I do.”

“Then, which?”

“I like domestic fluff, or comedies.”

“Is the story good?”

“It’s very funny.”

“That’s a huge compliment if you think the story is that good and funny.”

“Hmmm. My review of the story really makes the story seem hyped, doesn’t it?”

Dick laughed. Damian was getting good at cracking jokes.

“I should collaborate with _Bhai_ ; make booktube videos, and have our own channel. It would also build hype for some underrated books and lesser-known gems.”

Dick hummed. “You and Jason would be a great team, especially at this.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I would have something to watch on the weekends. It would be my favourite channel.”

Damian laughed—the soft laugh that was so soft and was usually used around Dick. “You are biased when it comes to us, you know?” Damian said while kissing Dick’s forehead.

“Well, it’s MY brothers. I have the right to be biased. And you are all pretty awesome, without even my bias. You know?”

Damian said, “You are also amazing,” as he pecked Dick’s forehead.

Dick smiled. His eyes were closed, he was wrapped up in blankets, his father and brother were showering him in their affections, his brother was still carding his fingers through his hair, and his head was resting in his brother's lap. For the first time in a long time, he felt _loved_ and _protected_ and _safe._

Safe from the nightmares, from the bad memories and feelings, and the frequent panic attacks this week.

_His chest felt warm._

He inhaled deeply, which caught the attention of Damian, who was loading the story on his phone. 

"Richard." It sounded like a soft _Rishard._ Arabic doesn't have the "ch" sound, Dick thought distractedly, and forgot that he had inhaled deeply because he thought he was going to cry again.

Dick nodded, signalling that he had heard Damian call him. Dick didn't trust opening his mouth right now.

"You alright?" Damian asked while kissing his temple softly.

_A nod._

(They both knew he wasn't alright. But the question was not useless or meaningless. It asked if they needed to call someone else; Bruce or Alfred or Jason or…a doctor.)

"Need anything?" 

_A light shake of his head._

(What did he need? He didn't need _anything._ At the same time, he felt like he needed _something._ What it was, he wasn't sure.) 

"It's okay. You are here. I am here. I’ve got you.”

Dick sniffed. Emotions were really out of his control today. It was _embarrassing_. 

Dick felt a scratch on the side of his head, a soft peck at the corner of his left eye, and a thumb caressing his cheek.

He was a bit more relaxed than before, and when Damian pecked his cheek, Dick moved his head to rub his cheek with his brother. _He blamed all the kitten videos he had watched in the last couple of weeks to cope._

“I am going to read, okay?”

_Dick nodded. Damian rubbed his cheek some more_

“I will do the voices.”

_Dick gave a little smile._

Damian cleared his throat.

* * *

_When I go into a bank I get rattled. The clerks rattle me; the wickets rattle me; the sight of the money rattles me; everything rattles me._

* * *

Dick giggled. “Everything is rattling.”

First, he had no energy or courage to even risk opening his mouth and speak. Then, all of a sudden, he started a passing commentary on the story. It was strange, but he thought it was a welcome change from earlier.

“Yeah.” 

* * *

_The moment I cross the threshold of a bank and attempt to transact business there, I become an irresponsible idiot._

* * *

“The moment you see animals, you became an irresponsible idiot.”

“Richard!”

“It’s true.”

“I guess it is.” Damian’s voice was amused.

* * *

_I knew this beforehand, but my salary had been raised to fifty dollars a month and I felt that the bank was the only place for it._

* * *

_A whistle._ “That’s a lot of money, buddy.”

He heard Damian giggling.

“It’s true. I understand that it’s a lot of money.”

“Wish everyone understood that man like you do.”

“Huh?”

“Oops. Spoilers!”

Stephanie had had a great impact on the kid. Damian and Steph had started spending too much time with each other and it was showing, as confirmed by Dick’s interaction with both of them.

Dick wasn’t even kidding or exaggerating. Even Jason would take Dick’s side on this one. (Not that Jason wouldn’t take his sides on other things. He just loved to mess with Dick too much to side with him that often.)

Some weeks before, Stephanie had started taking out a katana out of nowhere while fighting during patrol, while fighting. And _dang,_ she was _good_ at it.

One night Bruce had to gather them all in the cave and ask all his kids, “Whoever is teaching Stephanie to use a katana…please have mercy on our city.” The _“and my soul”_ was left unsaid.

Two nights later, Bruce had asked for a report on the comms. “Robin, report. Did you tie up all the henchmen?”

And Robin replied with an excited “SPOILER ALERT! YES!”.

Bruce had looked 20 years older at that moment.

Dick smiled, remembering those events.

* * *

_So I shambled in and looked timidly round at the clerks. I had an idea that a person about to open an account must need to consult the manager._

* * *

“Honestly? Valid.” 

“Really?”

“I mean, I never knew anything about banks and accounting or how to open an account either.”

“Oh?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that. You are…you are Richard. You know all the things.”

“ _Oh, kiddo._ Just because I am the eldest among the siblings doesn’t mean that I always know things or that I always knew everything.”

“ _But you are Richard.”_

_“You think too highly of me.”_

“Maybe.”

“But you really didn’t know about the bank stuff?”

“I mean, I knew things in theory. Math and numbers, I can do. Opening a bank account. I didn’t.”

“That’s strange.”

“With Bruce, he handled all that stuff, so I never had to worry about that. When I moved out and started living on my own, then some things came crashing down. Like, I had to open a bank account, because I didn’t want to rely on my trust fund, and I had to learn about the credit card stuff. That’s head-spinning-inducing. It’s not like I didn’t know about credit cards. But they work differently in the U.S.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah.”

“I have decided.”

“What?”

“I am never moving out, then.”

 _A laugh_.

“I mean if I move out, it’s not going to be in the U.S.”

“Will you leave us behind?” Dick gasped dramatically. It was nice having fun and messing around with his little brother. But if Dick was speaking truth, Damian moving out of the country was not something he even had the strength to imagine. He had grown too attached to him.

“Don’t worry. I will kidnap you and take you with me.”

“Hey, no kidnapping.”

“You and me. Travelling the world. Hiking the mountains. Exploring the valleys, having picnics beside the rivers. Skydiving, scuba diving, driving on the roads, climbing the peaks, and surfing. Maybe also wildlife and bird watching.”

_That sounded so good._

“Okay. Maybe _some_ kidnapping. _”_

“Give me a call or drop a message whenever you want to be kidnapped.”

“Sure, Dami. I think I’ll be taking you up on that offer in the near future.”

“I will be waiting.”

“Deal sealed?”

“Deal sealed.”

* * *

_I went up to a wicket marked "Accountant." The accountant was a tall, cool devil. The very sight of him rattled me. My voice was sepulchral._

* * *

“Everyone is going to think that this man is a devil or soul stealer or something.”

“Maybe he would be considered a _hellspawn.”_

“Dami?”

“Eh. Anyways, let’s continue.” 

* * *

_"Can I see the manager?" I said, and added solemnly, "alone." I don't know why I said: "alone."_

* * *

“I think he is scaring or threatening people, without even meaning to, like you.”

Damian sighed. “I thought it was a bedtime storytime for Richard. Not roasting Damian time.”

“It’s always roasting Damian time.”

“ _Why? What have I done to your grandkids?”_

“You seem cold. Need to roast you to warm you up.”

“Why me?”

“You are my little brother and kiddo. I have the right to roast you some.”

“I am resigned to this cruel, cruel fate. Aren’t I?”

_He gave a very serious nod, which promised business._

“Alright. I shouldn’t question the higher authorities about this injustice, after all.”

* * *

_"Certainly," said the accountant, and fetched him._

“‘Who am I to question the dealings between the manager and a ‘soul stealer’ is more like it.”

* * *

_The manager was a grave, calm man. I held my fifty-six dollars clutched in a crumpled ball in my pocket._

* * *

“Gordon, that you?”

“Haha. “

* * *

_"Are you the manager?" I said. God knows I didn't doubt it._

_"Yes," he said._

* * *

“Is it only me or this has the same energy as people coming across Batman saying ‘I am Batman’ or people around him calling ’Batman’ and them still asking him, ‘are you Batman?’ ‘ _Are you? Really?_ “”

“Haha. Now that you said that, it _does_.”

* * *

" _Can I see you," I asked, "alone?" I didn't want to say "alone" again, but without it, the thing seemed self-evident._

* * *

“Oooooh. The plot thickens.”

* * *

_The manager looked at me in some alarm. He felt that I had an awful secret to reveal._

* * *

“I am curious about what the manager is thinking; does he think the man is some soul-stealer or some devil who has to come to strike a deal?”

“I can’t tell. It would be _spoilers_.”

“Is he thinking that the man would say that he has some news about the manager’s kids about whom the manager never knew about?”

“Richard.”

“Yes?”

“You watch too many crime-solving shows in your “free” time and it shows.”

“Mmmmm. You are just jealous that I solve the mystery quicker than anyone in the show, and sometimes even before other people watching the show with me.”

“Jealous? I am not jealous of you, and I never will be.”

“Is that so?”

“I am _proud_ of you. Always going to be proud of you.”

“And I am proud of you.”

He kissed the corner of his eye. “I know.”

* * *

_"Come in here," he said and led the way to a private room. He turned the key in the lock._

* * *

“From all my knowledge of murder mysteries and horror films, this is a _bad_ idea.”

* * *

_"We are safe from interruption here," he said; "sit down."_

_We both sat down and looked at each other. I found no voice to speak._

* * *

“Whelp, horror and suspense. Is there some crime which is going to happen soon?”

“Uh, Richard, I don’t know if it counts as a spoiler or not because I told about it earlier; there is no murder mystery, violence, crime or blood in the story. It is actually a funny story.”

_“Well, right now I have questions about the kinds of things you find funny.”_

“You didn’t trust me when I said that it was actually funny. Maybe some second-hand embarrassment, but it is definitely not a mystery.”

“I mean you _do_ have some questionable tastes and weird opinions about what you find funny, that not everyone else agrees with.”

He heard a small sigh.

He hadn’t meant it like _that_. But now he’d hurt Damian’s feelings. He was a bad brother, wasn’t he? His little brother was trying to cheer him up, trying to distract him and all Dick did was think that jabbing at his brother would be a good idea and then did just that. He—

“I am going to continue the story, unless you want otherwise.” Damian’s voice was…it wasn’t bitter or annoyed or angry. But it wasn’t the same level of soft from earlier either. It was soft, yes, but not that much. If Dick had to put it in exact words, it lacked any emotion; positive or negative, whatsoever. _And that hurt. Because Damian’s voice around Dick never lacked emotion._

“I am so—”

“Sshh.”

“I really didn—”

“Sshh.”

He didn’t know how to tell Damian that he was only going for some light-hearted teasing. It came out worse, and he hadn’t really meant it that way. Plus, Damian had said the word _hellspawn_ some minutes earlier. It wasn’t something he liked. It was something that Damian _hated_ . He didn’t even repeat that word to just complain about it— _ever_. The mention of the “nickname” might have been a reference to something that might have happened recently. The last thing Dick wanted was to have Damian think that even Dick was mocking him.

But he was not letting Dick say anything. So, Dick decided to show by his actions instead.

Dick was already lying on his right side, so he threw his left arm around Damian’s right knee in a sort of hug. He rubbed his cheek a bit.

Damian leaned down and Dick rubbed his cheek with Damian’s.

“I know.”

_A peck on the cheek._

His brother kissed his cheek back.

* * *

_"You are one of Pinkerton's men, I presume," he said._

_He had gathered from my mysterious manner that I was a detective. I knew what he was thinking, and it made me worse._

* * *

“A detective? He doesn’t sound like a detective. Or maybe being a detective who was raised by a detective and having countless siblings who are also detectives has resulted in me having _a very different_ definition of a detective.”

“I mean, you are not wrong.”

* * *

_"No, not from Pinkerton's," I said, seeming to imply that I came from a rival agency. "To tell the truth," I went on, as if I had been prompted to lie about it, "I am not a detective at all. I have come to open an account. I intend to keep all my money in this bank."_

* * *

_ALL THE MONEY?”_

“Yes.”

“Didn’t the guy have like 50 dollars or something?”

“Yes.” 

“It’s not _that_ large a sum of money.”

“I…I thought you established that it _is_ a large sum of money. Especially for many people.”

“I did? Oh, I did!”

* * *

_The manager looked relieved but still serious; he concluded now that I was a son of Baron Rothschild or a young Gould._

_"A large account, I suppose," he said._

* * *

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

_"Fairly large," I whispered. "I propose to deposit fifty-six dollars now and fifty dollars a month regularly."_

_The manager got up and opened the door. He called to the accountant._

* * *

“Oh no. I think I have an idea where this is headed. I am scared about that, and I don’t like it.”

* * *

_"Mr Montgomery," he said unkindly loud, "this gentleman is opening an account, he will deposit fifty-six dollars. Good morning."_

* * *

“Oh no. OH NO. Oh no, oh no. That manager just insulted the poor guy.”

“Yeah :( ” 

(Did...Dick just imagine the upset smile in the words Damian said? Dick’s eyes had been closed for a while, and he had started imagining smiles and emojis? What’s next? GIFs? He shuddered. _He really needed a nap._ ) 

* * *

_I rose._

_A big iron door stood open at the side of the room._

_"Good morning," I said, and stepped into the safe._

_"Come out," said the manager coldly, and showed me the other way._

* * *

“Oh, how people change their colours!”

“Yeah D: ”

* * *

_I went up to the accountant's wicket and poked the ball of money at him with a quick convulsive movement as if I were doing a conjuring trick._

_My face was ghastly pale._

_"Here," I said, "deposit it." The tone of the words seemed to mean, "Let us do this painful thing while the fit is on us."_

* * *

“Let’s sing while we are already screaming in pain, anyway.”

“Richard!”

“What? It’s true!”

“ …”

“Hey, don’t judge me!”

“Hmm.”

“Uh…maybe don’t be the executioner for my rogues gallery either?”

“Hmm.”

“Yes hmm or bad hmm?”

“No promises hmm. Especially if they mess with you this week.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

* * *

_He took the money and gave it to another clerk._

_He made me write the sum on a slip and sign my name in a book. I no longer knew what I was doing. The bank swam before my eyes._

* * *

“Oh no. the man, who was already an anxious bean has turned into a nervous wreck because of the manager.”

“Yeah.” 

* * *

_"Is it deposited?" I asked in a hollow, vibrating voice._

_"It is," said the accountant._

_"Then I want to draw a cheque."_

* * *

“Maybe he’ll get the hang of it? There’s still hope for this rocky situation to turn into a smooth one!”

* * *

_My idea was to draw out six dollars of it for present use. Someone gave me a cheque book through a wicket and someone else began telling me how to write it out. The people in the bank had the impression that I was an invalid millionaire. I wrote something on the cheque and thrust it in at the clerk. He looked at it._

* * *

“Millionaire!?”

  
  


“Dami, please tell me that the guy’s situation would get better.”

“ :) ”

“ _Dami!”_

“ :) . All I can say is that this is supposed to be a comedy of errors.”

Dick just braced himself.

* * *

_"What! are you drawing it all out again?" he asked in surprise. Then I realized that I had written fifty-six instead of six. I was too far gone to reason now. I had a feeling that it was impossible to explain the thing. All the clerks had stopped writing to look at me._

_Reckless with misery, I made a plunge._

_"Yes, the whole thing."_

_"You withdraw your money from the bank?"_

_"Every cent of it."_

_"Are you not going to deposit any more?" said the clerk, astonished._

_"Never."_

* * *

“Yeah, show them!”

* * *

_An idiot hope struck me that they might think something had insulted me while I was writing the cheque and that I had changed my mind. I made a wretched attempt to look like a man with a fearfully quick temper._

_The clerk prepared to pay the money._

_"How will you have it?" he said._

_"What?"_

_"How will you have it?"_

_"Oh"—I caught his meaning and answered without even trying to think—"in the fifties."_

_He gave me a fifty-dollar bill._

_"And the six?" he asked dryly._

_"In sixes," I said._

_He gave it to me and I rushed out._

* * *

“Oh no. The poor guy!”

* * *

_As the big door swung behind me I caught the echo of a roar of laughter that went up to the ceiling of the bank. Since then I bank no more. I keep my money in cash in my trousers pocket and my savings in silver dollars in a sock._

* * *

“One, they mocked him. That wasn’t good of them. Two, honestly, banks suck. I am happy he didn’t have to rely on the bank in the future.”

“Richard”

“Hmm?”

“I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

“Is your fortune also saved in your socks and trouser pockets?”

“Uh…. Err…. _Maybe?_ ”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“Well, that explains the piled up laundry.”

“Hey! You didn’t have to go for my jugular like that.”

Dick thought he should have been offended, but the sound of Damian’s laughter was beautiful. And then Dick didn’t comment.

He felt himself falling asleep. “I think…’m…sleep.”

The “Sleep well Richard” accompanied by a kiss to his forehead might have been a part of his dream, or maybe it actually happened. Dick didn’t know.

A dreamless abyss of sleep found him.

**Author's Note:**

> The short story Damian was reading to Dick is by Stephen Leacock. I have come across two different titles for the story; "My Bank Account" and "My Financial Career".  
> The short story is supposed to be a comedy of errors.
> 
> I hope you liked the fic.
> 
> Kudos, comments and bookmarks are always welcome and appreciated 💙


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